of papercranes and promises
by shushufangirl
Summary: a story about Shinomori Aoshi, Makimachi Misao, Seta Soujiro and the spaces in between..a choice between honor and love
1. prologue:when papercranes fly

PCharacters are not mine, comments are more than welcome./P   
PA prologue to Of Paper cranes and promises and the whole shebang./P  
  
P align=center/PB  
P align=center When Paper Cranes Fly/P/B  
  
  
P align=justifyHe heard her laugh somewhere below and heard her bounding towards his room. She stopped her onslaught and paused to rap timidly at his door./P  
  
P align=justify"Aoshi-sama?" she whispered. He put away his books and faced the door./P  
  
P align=justify"Enter." She looked at him shyly but not finding a hint of annoyance on his face, she came running towards him falling on his lap. She thrust her cupped palms to his face to disclose five cherries in her hand./P  
P align=justify"I picked these for you!!" she squeaked. Aoshi looked at her braided head and began to pick the petals of cherry blossoms entwined in her hair. He stopped when he saw her frown./P  
P align=justify"What?"/P  
P align=justify"I picked these for you and had to fight off Hannya because he wanted some too but I wouldn't give him any coz they were for you and now you won't even eat it." She said in one breath as she put her arms down. Her little tantrum was cut short when a cherry pit hit her on the nose. She looked up and saw Aoshi chewing what she had brought and she smiled in satisfaction./P  
  
P align=justifyAoshi had to hide his grimace as the acid form the cherry, a week short of becoming ripe, filled his mouth. She looked up at him expectantly and he sighed knowing full well he wouldn't be able to say no to her. He took another of those unbearably sour things in his mouth and began to chew as fast as he could. Trying in vain to minimize the damage on his taste buds. He finished all five and proceeded to spit out all the pits trying to hit her on the nose once more. Of course she blocked each one effortlessly./P  
  
P align=justify"Thank you Misao it was good." He managed to say./P  
P align=justify"Really? I could get you some more!" she started to head for the door./P  
P align=justify"No stop!" he ordered catching a hold on her kimono, which sent her sprawling on the floor beside him./P  
P align=justify"Owwww!" she pouted, he knew she wouldn't cry. She never cried./P  
P align=justify"Let's just make paper cranes ok?" she smiled at his offer./P  
P align=justify"Ok! I know how!!!" and she took one of the papers on the desk in front of him. Aoshi prudently set aside his papers knowing this will turn out messy. He looked at her furrowed head, concentrating on the right folds./P  
P align=justify"Tada!!!" she smiled triumphantly. She held up her paper crane, or rather something that resembled a paper crane after being run over by a cart. "Oi! It doesn't look right." She frowned./P  
P align=justify"Perhaps it is sick ne?" he smiled inwardly finding her look amusing./P  
P align=justify"Lets make another one." He suggested. This time he helped her telling her where to fold and sometimes, most of the time, doing the folds himself./P  
P align=justify"Ha! Perfect!" she laughed. "Wait! Wait! I'll show you something." She grabbed his brush and he had to wince at the black trail she left behind. Thank god I removed everything important./P  
P align=justify"Look!" she held up the poor dilapidated paper crane. He looked at her childish strokes barely making out her misspelled name. "Hannya taught me how!" she said proudly. "It's my name see?"/P  
P align=justify"Yes, I see."/P  
P align=justify"I wrote it here so you would know that I made this one with you." /P  
P align=justify"I wouldn't make paper cranes with anyone else but you Misao." She smiled at this. /P  
P align=justify"Can I stay here with you?" /P  
P align=justify"But all I'm gonna do is write some things it would be boring."/P  
P align=justify"Don't care." She stated crawling onto his lap. /P  
P align=justifyAoshi continued finishing his papers and found the weight of the child on his lap comforting rather than troublesome. Soon she began to nod her head and Aoshi knew she had had it for the day. He carried her to her room where he lay her on her futon. He tried to extricate his neck from her embrace. But he found that he couldn't for he didn't want to. They would leave her the next day and he could almost see her angry face when she wakes up to find them gone. But then he envisioned a crying Misao, her fists rubbing furiously at her eyes. Trying to stop the tears from coming, trying to stay strong and not cry as her okashira had ordered her long ago./P  
P align=justify"Good night Aoshi-sama." She muttered in her sleep. He enveloped her in his arms.I When we meet again perhaps you would not know me, or perhaps it will be I that will not know you. So just for tonight little one, let me revel in your love one last time./I/P  
P align=justifyHe would never admit it but he loved her more than anything in the world she made his life bearable, if only to see her smile. And as he listened to the soft thumping of her heart against her tiny chest he found himself falling asleep to her steady rhythm./P  
P align=justifyIt was Hannya that woke him up./P  
P align=justify"Hey okashira, we need to leave now if we plan to get to Edo by tomorrow."/P  
P align=justify"Ok." He said rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blushing at being caught with the child in his arms. He looked at Hannya then at Misao. "Would you like to say goodbye to her?"/P  
P align=justify"I'd rather not." he said leaving./P  
P align=justifyAoshi looked at him, although his mask covered his face, his voice betrayed his emotions. No one loved Misao more than him and Hannya. None more than him. He sat up fixing himself when Okina entered. Some words passed between them. And he left. He passed his room and took the papers he had been preparing. Something caught his eye. The paper crane they had made was sitting on the table, he took it in his hand and placed it deep inside his kimono. I will return one day little Misao, to see you smile once more and to hear your heat beat again. Till then my heart will forever beat with yours. He promised as he fingered the paper crane against his chest. /P  
P align=justifyHe rejoined his men outside and they began to set out./P  
P align=justifyHe stopped and looked at the now darkened Aoiya. He had forgotten something but he couldn't place what it was./P  
P align=justify"Boss?" Hannya asked stopping ahead of him./P  
P align=justifyHe then remembered and smiled, careful lest the others might see him, and he whispered "Good night Misao." And he left, the darkness enveloping his farewell./P   
P align=center~end~/P  
P align=justifyAuthor's notes:/P  
P align=justifyThe title again! Sorry I have a fetish for titles, anyhu this means when Aoshi left her and when she began to acknowledge Aoshi as the owner of her heart. /P 


	2. of papercranes and promises

An Aoshi/Misao/Soujiro fanfic

An Aoshi/Misao/Soujiro fanfic

Characters are not mine, but I would like to hear comments thanks. 

****

Of Paper Cranes and Promises

She looked at herself in the mirror. How many times had she done this? How many times had she entered that room bringing her little tray of tea? How many times had she tried to produce that elusive smile that never seemed to escape from his lips? How many times had she looked into those eyes with a love that came from her soul and found none mirrored in them? How many times?

She sighed. 

As she moved past them the Oniwabanshuu could only shake their heads. 

"Poor Misao. If only she would see that it is no use."

"I could kill Aoshi for doing this to her."

"Why can't she see that he will never change?"

"Ah but you see Misao shall never change also."

She heard it all. And it pierced her heart not because their words were harsh but rather because they were true. She swallowed her tears and continued to move down the hall to the door she knew too well. The door that never seemed to open to her.

The smell in the room was always the same. It was familiar and different it was sweet and bitter it was winter and spring all at once. And there he sat, facing the veranda, his back to her. She began the ceremony taking pains not to make mistakes. The tears, still choking her up inside.

He stopped in his thoughts there was something wrong. The way she moved did not seem to fall into place. He faced her. She was sitting on her knees obviously uncomfortable. He took his tea sipping it slowly. Waiting for her to speak.

"It is too bitter isn't it?" she asked sheepishly.

"No it is fine." Silence. 

He was almost finished and still she did not speak again. So he decided to speak.

"Is there something wrong Misao?"

"No."

"Will you not tell me about your day?"

"No."

"Are you angry at me?" it was her turn to be cold and distant. She looked at him for a moment. And began to fix the tray. 

"Tell what have I done wrong?" he asked his tone was demanding taking hold of her and stopping her from leaving.

"Nothing Aoshi-sama. It is I who has erred. Forgive me for being such a bother. I shall not bring the tea tomorrow." Silence. She left him then. And went into the kitchen where she left the tray.

"What is the matter Misao?" she just continued walking to her room. _No Misao! Pull yourself together! Do not shed more tears for him. He will never love you in that way. Accept it. Get over it. Forget him. _And at this she cried.

He looked at the door for a long time. The memory of her back still imprinted on his mind. _What had just happened? _

He reached in to the lapel of his kimono and took out a small tattered paper crane. The soiled paper masked the oldness of it. It was the last crane Misao had made. He had taken it with him when he left the Aoiya so long ago. It had never left his breast ever since. It was a reminder that someone waited for him at home.

How he wished that she had spoken some more. How he wanted to hear her sweet voice. His daily tea ceremonies with her were the highlight of the day for him. It was what got him up in the morning. And the thought that she was safe under his protection lets him sleep peacefully and dream of things that cannot be. He cannot love her.

She who was the rain in his barren heart, she who has loved him as no other could, she who grew up right before his eyes, she who was so pure and fragile. How could he soil her with his love? He was not worthy of her.

He who could face down every formidable opponent but he could not win against his own heart. He cannot.

How could he tell her that all he lived for was to hear her happy chatter, to look into those blue eyes and drown in them? How could he tell her she was his only reason to live? How? He whose voice had been silenced by his sins. He had no right to speak of love. He was not worthy of her. 

Days went by. He no longer saw her.

She went into his room silently one night as he sat meditating. Her eyes widened in dismay as she sat opposite him.

"I had hoped you were asleep." She said facing him. " Farewell Aoshi-sama. I leave tonight."

"Why? Where?"

"I need to find myself." A silence pervaded between them and she shifted uncomfortably from her seat. She looked at him and opened her mouth as if wanting to say something but she stopped. Then she stood up and she left.

He wanted to stop her but he did not know how.

Misao looked behind her. The Aoiya seemed like a lonely star amid the darkness that engulfed the whole of Kyoto. She smelled Shiro's miso soup and she smiled. She will miss them but she had to do this. 

She started to run diving into the thickness of the woods on the outskirts of Kyoto. Running as if she was escaping some demon. And she was. She was escaping the demon that had consumed her heart.

He looked at her small form until she was fully engulfed by the horizon. All it took was a word from him he knew. But he couldn't do that to her. He would not let her be entwined in his doomed fate. It is better this way. Let her find true happiness. A happiness no matter how much he wanted to give her, he could not. He stepped out of the shadows and headed towards the Aoiya.

Misao had been wandering for about a seven months now. So many times she wanted to head back home. But her stubbornness always got the better of her. She had explored the regions between Kyoto and Edo. Visiting the Himuras while she was there. Ah they seemed so happy. _Himura deserves to be happy_ she thought.

She froze. A sudden movement behind her stopped her thoughts. Before she could blink she had sent three kunais flying.

Stepping aside he avoided them and caught one in his hands effortlessly.

"Well done Miss Misao, had you been a second faster you would of nicked me easily." He smiled tossing the kunai in his hand.

"Se…Seta Soujiro!" she shrieked in disbelief. She looked at him. His once neat kimono looked tattered and torn. His hair had grown longer and was tied at the back. His face was filled with scratches and he stood taller. She almost didn't recognize him if it wasn't for his usual cheery voice and his cold smile.

"Hello, how long has it been Miss Misao?" 

"Th..three years." She stuttered.

"Ah has it only been three years? Time stands still when you're wandering." He smiled to himself. "I see you have not yet changed. But you still are pretty."

Misao blushed at the compliment. No one has ever told her she was pretty. "Heh! If you think that flattery will save you from my kunais think again. Prepare to die!" she took her stance.

Soujiro looked at her puzzled. "But I have done nothing to you."

"You are Himura and Aoshi-sama's enemy. I will not let you harm them."

"Aoshi and I used to be comrades." He corrected her.

"Aoshi-sama was never part of your twisted Juppon Gatana! And someone evil like you should not be allowed to breathe!"

"You wound me with your accusations!" he smiled obviously amused with her spunk. She let out a battle cry and lunged towards him. He took a stance and with one swift motion knocked her out. She doubled up and staggered forward.

"Ao…shi…sa…ma" she whispered before passing out.

"Still the lovesick puppy Miss Misao? You amuse me so." He chuckled. He sheathed his sword and turned around. He stopped, looking down at her once more. "Aww hell." He cursed before slinging her over his shoulder.

Her vision was blurry and she could not recall what had just happened. Her head spun as she struggled to get up. "Awww"

"Oh you are awake!" A voice beside her said.

She looked at the old woolen blanket she was lying on as she tried to recall what had happened. _A man, a smile, I attacked, I was hit. Am I dead_? 

"Your body seems to be very resistant to hits. The attack I countered you with would knock out a full-grown man for two days. You barely stayed down for four hours."

Seta. He knocked me out. He is the one beside me? 

"Eat Miss Misao." He smiled ignoring the look of absolute hate he saw in her eyes. It was here she realized the soreness of her abdomen and the thought of eating so soon made her vomit. "Oh I forgot, your body will refuse to eat for a couple of days." He smiled.

Damn! Why didn't he just kill me?

"That move, it was supposed to break a man's spine and mash his entrails. Why did you hold back?" she asked wiping the spit on the corner of her mouth.

His smile dropped. "How?"

"I am Oniwabanshuu. The Shin-se clan in Hokkaido uses that technique. The sword is turned on the reverse side and a stroke that will cut a man in half if the blade was used is utilized. It makes your opponent die an excruciating death. Heartless still Seta?"

"Heh! You found me out. That was very good Miss Misao. I am impressed. I learned it while I was in Hokkaido six months ago. I killed the man I learned it from with the technique he wanted to pass down to me." He laughed.

Misao cringed she didn't know how twisted he could get. And she felt afraid but calm at the same time.

"How is Aoshi by the way?" she remained silent. Not wishing to disclose information that may lead to harm for Aoshi. "Still ignoring you I see."

"WHAT?!" she screamed her vow of silence melting. She wanted to clobber him but the serious look on his face stopped her. She heard it too a shuffling to their right. By the time she got hold of her kunais there was no doubting it. They were surrounded. 

A snap of a twig and a half-starved wolf leapt toward them. Soujiro slashed the beast across its chest and it lay whimpering. The whole pack started to pounce on them, excited by the smell of their fallen comrade's blood. 

Three, four, six, ten,thirteen. 

She let her kunais fly but she suddenly found herself out. She attempted to get up but found her abdomen was still twisted. She saw one leap at her and all she could do was shield her face defenseless. She felt something wet her hands. She opened her eyes and saw Soujiro in front of her. A wolf with his jaws deep into his neck. He had shielded her with his body and his sword was deep inside the beast's heart but he had moved too late and it had gotten a bite at his neck before his nihontu connected. 

"Stupid wolves." He said flicking his sword free of the blood it was stained with. He drew his hand to his neck, applying pressure to the open wound. He collapsed beside her and grunted as his body made contact with the floor.

She started to get up hoping to get away from him. But she stopped. She looked back and saw his unconscious body. She sighed heavily and sat back down beside him. She brought out the sake she had in her sack and poured it over his bleeding neck. He cringed at the pain it brought and slowly, painfully raised his eyes.

"You…why would you?"

"A perfect waste of good sake if you ask me." She scoffed.

He smiled. She was adorable. And beautiful too. He first noticed her when she came tumbling out in the middle of his and Himura's first fight. Her spunk only magnified the attraction he had to her that he was painfully aware of as he faced Himura. The same attraction he could not suppress even now_. Too bad she's so in love with Shinomori e? _And he promptly passed out. 

He awoke to find himself lying on the blanket he put her on hours before. It was her turn to sit beside the fire.

"Good you're awake." She muttered getting up. "A life for a life. My dept is repaid. Never mind that it was your doing that my life needed rescuing!"

He touched his freshly bandaged neck. "Thank you Miss Misao."

"Yeah yeah whatever! Just don't turn into killer-hyper-over-drive while I'm still in the area and we'll call it quits." She waved her hand at him.

"Heh, how far do you think you will get before you collapse?" He looked at her retreating form. 

"Huh?"

"I can see you're still hurting and I know for sure it's killing you to just stand up. Your best bet of survival is to stay with me… until you recover."

"You…you fucking asshole you actually have the audacity to…to…when it's your fault!" she reddened. But the pain could not be denied and she fell to her knees before a smiling Soujiro. 

Shit. I can't believe I'm sitting here beside Seta Soujiro. This guy's a maniac! I might be contaminated by his insanity just by sitting beside him.It was her fear of him that kept her rooted where she was. She wasn't about to disobey an unstable killer like Seta. 

She mustered enough courage to tear her gaze from the fire and look into his smiling face. His smile was that of a child's. As if something amusing was taking place in his mind. _His twisted mind. Just thinking about what this guy has done sends shivers down my spine._ She felt bolder as she studied his face closer. _No way! _She gushed. What was it that she saw in those handsome child-like eyes and fake smile? _Was it sadness_?

He looked at her just as she dropped her gaze her face contorted in puzzlement. He chuckled softly to him self. _How amusing she's blushing._

"Hey Seta, what's with the smile? You know it' s unnatural the way you smile." She blurted out trying to ease the tension.

"Most people like it when I smile." 

"Whaaat? That's even more unnatural! You should smile because you feel like it not because people like it. A smile should be freely given not imposed." She frowned.

"Thank you for your unwanted advise." She stuck her tongue out at him. "What are you doing so far away from your Aoshi-sama!" he asked mimicking her voice. 

"Man I don't sound like that!" she protested. And then she heard it. He laughed. And she stared at him when had she become chummy with Seta Soujiro?

"I was searching for something." She stated matter-of-factly. Trying to dismiss their newfound familiarity. She didn't want anything to do with the young hitokiri.

"Did you find it?"

"No."

"Have you found something to believe in yet?"

"Nope."

"We're hopeless." She sighed. Again she heard it. His laugh. She looked so lost that he allowed himself the pleasure of laughing.

The next day they found themselves travelling companions although the familiarity they found the night before was nowhere to be seen as they trudged on in silence. He would talk to her occasionally. And she would point something out to him that she found amusing. And she would be rewarded by a smile. 

By that evening they were making camp. 

"What is the one thing you need to be a great swordsman?" she asked almost to herself.

"Loneliness." He answered coolly. She looked at his stern face as he made the fire. His eternal smile pasted on. When did she cease being afraid of him?

"What is it with men and being alone?" she said exasperated. "I wouldn't want to be alone. I mean, if I couldn't be with…" she was rambling now but he didn't mind. And under his breath almost inaudible as if he didn't say it for anyone to hear but himself.

"Neither would I."

She couldn't understand why she was still hanging around him. Maybe she was not meant for solitude. Those seven months of being alone almost drove her insane. She laughed at the idea of having him for a travelling companion. Everyone at home would probably laugh at her while basking in his or her own cold sweat. But she felt better having him around and the fact that she woke up to find him still there probably meant he liked having her around as well. She would talk of Aoshi most of the time and he didn't seem to mind. Occasionally he would speak too. But always with that infernal smile of his. She looked at him trying to read him. Once she said without thinking. "Someday Seta I would like to see you really smile." And evidently this shook him up for he looked at her strangely.

They reached a raging river with but a path of boulders to get across. He looked at her. The boulders were huge not to mention dangerous. One slip and you would surely fall to your death.

"I'm not crippled you know!" she snapped.

They climbed on the first one. Soujiro not looking back. Misao swallowed hard. _Ok lets go._ She was about to jump on but was surprised to see Soujiro offer his hand. She looked up at him. And this time she did not argue and just took his hand as he hauled her up with him on the boulder. They paused for a moment looking at the cascading waterfall before them. She looked at his profile. And looked away. She felt her heart beat faster_. I love Aoshi-sama no one else right? Then why do I feel? Why does it feel so?_ She did not notice him jump on the next boulder and continue on until he reached the farther bank. She was jerked from her contemplation and began to follow. _I love Aoshi-sama. I love Aoshi-sama. No one else._

He looked at her. Shivering on that rock looking absently at the waterfall. There was no denying it he had fallen. He had fallen deep and hard. And he would fight for what they had, no, what he had. Even if it would end the moment their wandering was over and she had to return to Kyoto and to Aoshi and he back to searching for the man inside of him that he so desperately wanted to find. But it didn't seem to matter anymore. He didn't know when it happened. But it did and no matter how much he wanted to deny it he had a heart. And Misao had found it.

She landed soundlessly beside him. He nodded and continued to move forward. 

He wouldn't say it. 

Neither would she. 

They were nearing Kyoto and it meant that a choice would be made soon. She stood on the cliff overlooking the great city. 

"You could come with me you know." She sighed. He just smiled.

"Perhaps." And with that he turned his back on her and walked away.

"One whole year. Who thought so much could happen in a year?" she smiled to herself. She walked towards the blue rooftop she knew all too well.

A year had passed since she came back. Twenty years old and she had blossomed fully into womanhood yet she did not lose her spunk. But something was lost on her expedition and sadly this could never be replaced. She lost her innocence (no she didn't loose THAT!) on that mountain. She could no longer be called a child. Aoshi noted this with sadness. When she returned he told himself he would tell her how he felt. But something always stopped him. He couldn't do it. For now having her around was enough.

She had changed. So much it seemed. Her old Oniwabanshuu uniform was finally put aside and a proper kimono was put on. Her long hair was liberated from its eternal braid and was now held back simply by a silk blue ribbon and cascaded down her back. A simple elegance replaced the hardheadedness that seemed to have all but disappeared. Save for a few outbursts here and there. Her loud chatter was more subdued now.

"I don't know what is wrong with you Misao but this vow of silence you took is unnerving me!" Okon gushed as they sat in one of the tables of the Aoiya. The restaurant was closed for that day and everyone was enjoying the day off. Even Aoshi consented to having tea in the restaurant he rarely sat in. 

"Yeah Misao you haven't even told us about your year away from us. Did you meet any men?" Omasu teased. Misao just smiled. Aoshi looked from the corner of his eye and commented to himself how her subdued manner suited her.

"Aaaa! Misao come on tell!" Omasu giggled.

He smiled it did suit her better. But he did miss the bubbly Misao that continually amused him with her antics, although he wouldn't admit it.

"Come on Misao! Tell us!" Omasu nagged. But her mind was elsewhere. It was on a sunny day by the river and a boy holding out his hand to her lifting her up on a boulder. The sun illuminating the boy's smile. And she sighed. 

The door to the Aoiya slid open causing everyone to look in the general direction of the front door.

"I'm sorry but the Aoiya is closed for today." Came Okina's lazy remark. They froze. Standing in front of them, in his blue kimono and a perpetual smile on his face stood a longhaired Seta Soujiro. Their surprise only multiplied as they saw Misao take a step towards him.

"Forgive my intrusion." He bowed to the other Oniwabanshuu. He looked into Misao's blue eyes and whispered. "I have yet to show you my smile Miss Misao." And he took her hand in his and squeezed it. And she smiled.

He could hear the gasps of surprise as the two youths openly showed their familiarity with one another. _No._

After a few moments he found himself sitting in one of the parlors. Okina sitting beside Misao as he found himself facing a smiling Soujiro. 

"Tell me again what your intentions are Seta." Okina ordered beside the suddenly shy Misao.

"I intend to marry her. If she'll have me." He stated confidently.

"Aoshi?" the old man looked at him for some sort of objection. 

"It is Misao's decision." He said no emotion what so ever.

"Misao?"

"I…I would be happy to have him as my husband." She smiled looking at Soujiro.

"I didn't expect this." 

"Oh Jiya! I'm twenty years old now! Isn't it about time?"

"If it makes you happy Misao." She hugged him tightly. And looked up at Aoshi in supplication. All she got was a curt nod.

Then she flew into Soujiro's arms planting a kiss on his lips as they curved into a smile. "I don't want to be a great swordsman if it means I'll be separated from you. Loneliness is a terrible plague." 

Oh how she knew what he meant.

He was left alone in his room now. His head swimming. He too knew what he meant. And now it seemed it was his ailment, something that will never truly leave his body. He knew it would happen. He knew she would not wait for him forever. Her blind adoration was simply that. Blind. And now she finally found the one that would make her happy. And it wasn't him. Secretly he had hoped she would wait for him forever. Secretly he needed her to wait forever. And now it was too late. Aoshi fingered the paper crane he had in his Kimono and clutched it to his heart as he closed hi s eyes in desperation. 

"Why didn't you ask me before?" 

"I was afraid to."

"Why?"

"Because I thought that if I asked you then you would say that you were in love with Shinomori. And after almost a year without your smile I knew I couldn't take it anymore. Who cares what your answer would be I couldn't take the emptiness that was eating me from the inside. I needed to see you once more even if it was the last time."

"I love you Soujiro." She said embarrassed. His smile faltered at the hesitation she displayed but it didn't matter. He too was unsure of his feelings when he arrived on the Aoiya's doorstep that morning. But he was sincere in his proposal. Never had he been so sure of anything in his life.

"When I set out years ago I wanted to find myself. And I have. I belong here where I can find your smile."

"Your days of being a hitokiri are over?"

"Yes. So long as you're here with me."

"You will become like Himura then? A man who will not kill?" He smiled at her and she sighed. She was afraid of the heartless Soujiro that she had first seen so many years ago but now at his promise her apprehension disappeared. He might have been a monster all those years ago but now she had the rest of their lives to create a new man from him_. A man who will not kill. _She repeated to herselfas if reminding herself of what he had just promised.

"I love you Soujiro. And I have never been happier than at this moment. I can see the rest of my life beside you. A man of peace." she smiled. Then he held her closer and enveloped himself in her innocence(again it's not THAT! This is PG13!).

Today she became his wife; tonight she would become his. Aoshi thought with grim reality. Everyone came to see their union. After getting over the initial shock of finding out who she was going to marry they all had nothing but best wishes for the new couple. He looked at her inside the now crowded room, she looked like a true bride and he tried to search for a trace of the Misao he had raised. And as he feared found none.

He stepped out of the room and walked around the garden. He had been hurting so much over the past few months. He carried a hurt he had no right to bear. And knowing this made it even more unendurable. But he tolerated it as well as he could. For her sake. For her happiness.

He froze as he found her sitting there as he was on his way back. She smiled at him.

"It's beginning to stink in there." She said in her usual manner_._

There she is. There is my Misao. He smiled. He sat down beside her.

"Hey Aoshi-sama?" he looked at her. She looked sideways before putting on a disturbed look and muttering. "Never mind." He sighed at the familiar habit he saw unfolding before him. A silence covered them. "Hey Aoshi-sama?" she asked once more.

"Yes Misao?" he asked knowing full well that this would not end unless he did something.

"Nothing." She shook her head as she broke into a smile once more. _This is the last time I shall ever see my Misao. Tomorrow she would be a different person. _She let out one of her giggles as she buried her face on his chest encompassing him in an embrace. "Thank you Aoshi-sama for everything. I just hope you find a happiness surpassing that which I received from you."

He moved his hand and pulled her closer to him_. I have Misao. I have._ He breathed in the scent of white powder and borrowed perfume. It did not suit her. Her scent of sunlight and open fields was the sweetest smelling perfume he could hope for. _Tomorrow you will be his. Tomorrow I will loose you._ He thought bitterly. He wanted to kiss her then in the moonlight. To claim her for himself. How he longed to take her away from there and make her his wife. But he knew that that would trample Misao's newfound happiness. And he would never do that. He promised to make her happy. He lived to see her happy. At any cost. Even if the cost was his own happiness. He held her tightly in his arms_. Stay mine a little longer Misao. Stay mine._

After a while she withdrew from their embrace "Thank you Aoshi-sama."

"Thank you Misao. You are my happiness." He whispered almost inaudibly. She looked up at him. Her eyes widened at what he said. And she smiled in understanding and went back inside leaving him alone once more.

She would never understand. And perhaps it is better that she doesn't. Then he buried his face in his hands. 

His new wife was missing and he looked around for her. He stepped outside and he froze. He found her, in the arms of another man. Seta Soujiro smiled. And went back inside. _I won Shinomori, I won_. 

Misao stopped at the top of the stairs.

"Whew! These steps never seemed so steep before!" she whispered to herself placing the tray she was carrying on the banister as fanned herself with her hands. After catching her breath she looked out the window and Soujiro waved at her from the garden. _Seta Soujiro of the ten swords tending a vegetable garden_? The thought seemed humorous in a way yet it seemed right at the same time. She took the tray back in her arms and continued on her way.

He heard the knock and was startled out of his meditation. No one was supposed to come at this hour. Nonetheless he regained his composure and bid the intruder to enter. He was surprised to find Misao enter with a smile on her face and a tray in her hands.

"Misao?" 

"Hello Aoshi-sama. I just thought it would be a good idea to bring you your tea today." She kneeled in front of him and with some difficulty and found a comfortable way of sitting. "It has been more than two years since I brought you your tea. I'm sorry if I neglected you for so long." She began the ceremony. Her brows furrowed in concentration and hands aching to get the slow movements over and done with. He smiled, he remembered those times when she would be patient for about five minutes and then began to get uneasy and start her chattering. Always it would be five minutes no more no less. Her swollen belly he noted sadly, hindered her movements.

"It is not your fault you have a husband to attend to now." He said monotonously. "Where is Seta?"

"Soujiro is outside tending the garden." She emphasized his name. He would never call him by his first name no matter how much she insisted that he get to know her husband more_. He rarely leaves his room now. And the tension between him and Soujiro is still present._ She sighed to herself. "Imagine Makoto Shishio's prodigy pulling up grass in our backyard." She laughed. He smiled at this.

"A lot has changed."

"Yes. This is my dream for him. For him to become a peaceful man. Far from the hitokiri he became. And I will personally take it upon myself to wring out all the blood thirstiness he has inside of him!" she laughed raising her first for emphasis.

"You know Misao as of right now you are his only hope of forsaking the life he led before and to become a real man." She blushed at this. "You are his only hope for redemption." He did not know whether he spoke of himself as well.

"We are." Misao smiled stroking her belly. He smiled_. AAA! I am defeated it seems. _They fell silent for a moment both not willing to speak any further. 

He reached in his kimono absently feeling the soft paper under his fingers. Holding on to it as if it was his only salvation. She noticed it.

"What do you have there?" she said in her usual nonchalant tone that he missed so.

"N-n-nothing." He stammered not letting go of his lifeline.

"Come on let me see." She teased. She went to him and wrestled with him. He was taking care not to hurt her in her delicate condition but he was not about to let her see what he had kept close to his heart for more than ten years now either. But years of experience as an expert ninja and thief finally won and she made it slip from his grasp. She held up the battered paper crane triumphantly.

"Hahaha Aoshi-sama! At your age? Paper cranes?"

He suddenly felt weak. He was the child now. He was the fragile one now.

She stopped recognizing the child-like scribble on the crane's wing. Mikamichi Misao. She even misspelled her name.

"This is…" she looked at him. He looked away sheepishly. "You kept it after all these years!" she stared at the crane and a long silence enveloped them again. She looked at him. The anguish written on his face bewildered her.

"Please." He pleaded. She gasped. Never in her life has she heard him with so much pain and desperation in his voice. She handed him back the paper crane and he tucked it protectively inside his kimono. She couldn't breathe. _What had just happened?_

Her mind was in a whirl but she managed to get up and ask for leave from him. He weakly gave her his permission and the frailness of his voice confused her even more. She ran to her room and closed the door behind her. And finally her knees gave out and she sank to the floor. 

What had just happened? He looked into his hands willing them to give him an answer. The paper crane looked so alien in his hands, like it didn't belong there. He wanted to burn it, as if by doing so he could erase what had just happened. He cursed himself for being so emotional. When had he lost control over his emotions? When had he become so weak? _When she was taken from me_, came a resentful reply. 

He could hear her breathing beside him. Something was wrong. He meant to ask her what was troubling her but knowing Misao she would have told him if it were important. Still he couldn't shake the feeling that she was troubled somehow. 

He opened his eyes and watched her sleeping. She had kicked off her covers and he could see the swollen mass hidden by the folds of her nemaki. He brushed his fingers across her cheek and she murmured something in her sleep. He smiled. He moved his hand to her belly and gently stroked his unborn child. He jumped as he felt her hand cover his. He looked into her eyes and she smiled. She shifted her position so that her back was resting on his chest. He cradled her head in his arm and rested his head on the crook of her neck. She took his hand in hers as she placed it on her belly. 

"I love you." She whispered before going back to sleep.

"I love you too." He whispered to her back. He sighed. This felt perfect. He closed his eyes, tomorrow he would wake up beside her. Tomorrow she would still be his wife. And perhaps tomorrow their child would be born. 

When he first held Misao in his arms he felt so ashamed to hold her in such bloodstained hands. Her innocence was so white compared to his soul. The soul he could feel slowly being engulfed by the dark void that reigned king inside of him before he found her. Ever since that day they met again he had somehow found peace. And the fact that he actually hurt her then made him sick to his stomach. He was a sinner and she was his redeeming angel. She washed all his sins away and every time he woke up beside her he felt reborn.

"Every smile I have now is yours alone beloved. Every smile I have now is freely given." He whispered to unhearing ears. 

She sat looking at the little yukata she was sewing in three weeks time her child would be born. Her mind drifted to that morning when she found the paper crane in his breast. She could not understand why he had kept it all this time. _It's not like he loved me so much that he…it's not like he loved me in any way but as a guardian_. But the look on his face as she held the paper crane made her heart bleed. _It's almost as if he was afraid I would take it from him. It's like he would die if I.._

Her thoughts were interrupted as he entered the room. She smiled and greeted him good morning hiding her turmoil. He sat beside her on the patio facing the garden and looked at her sewing. She held it up for him to see and he smiled.

"It would be nice to have little feet pattering around here once more." He smiled.

"Hey Aoshi-sama. Do you think it's a girl or boy?"

"I hope it's a girl. So it would remind me of the times when I held your hand in mine little Misao." He said wistfully. 

She paused unsure of what to feel. She looked up at him and studied his profile. His eyes were looking at the garden yet it was evident his gaze passed through the walls of the Aoiya. It went back to a time when Misao was holding his hand. Her little fist disappearing inside his. She looked up at him and she smiled. She was happy just having him beside her.

She sat there watching him as he was caught up in the memory. And slowly she began to feel a sadness creep inside her heart. A longing she has long forgotten and a love she chose to bury deep inside. Perhaps she did understand and she would not let herself see. Perhaps she was wrong.

His reminiscing was stopped abruptly as he saw something moving in the corner of his eye. His gaze found itself on Misao's face, two solitary pathways being formed by the tears steaming down her face.

"Misao?" she could not answer him. "When will I cease causing you tears?" he asked sadly. All she could do was shake her head in response.

"Tell me Aoshi-sama, tell me did you love me?" her voice trembled.

"Of course I do."

"As I did you?" he paused completely taken aback by her question. He did not answer her. But she didn't need one. She knew the answer even before she asked. Her tears began to fall once more.

"Misao…" she got up and ran to her room. Dropping her sewing behind her. She collapsed on her futon her shoulders shaking with the emotion escaping her body_. I do love him. I still do. Perhaps I never stopped. I thought Soujiro could provide that which he could not. But that cannot happen. The heart never forgets. Oh god I was wrong. Forgive me I was wrong._

He looked at her retreating back. _She understood. Oh god she understood. Forgive me the pain was too much to bear._

She looked at Soujiro. She smiled. _I belong beside him now. No matter what, I am his wife now. I love Soujiro. I love him. I had promised to love him._

Soujiro searched the room for his wife. He found her gaze and she smiled at him. He smiled back. _I know you Makimachi Misao. Something is bothering you. If you would only tell me what saddens you so._

"Misao, what is the matter?" he asked coming closer to her.

"Nothing Soujiro. You are here now everything is fine." She answered taking his hand in hers. When no one was looking, she placed her forehead on his and smoothed his long hair from his face. She loved Soujiro of this she was sure. Perhaps her heart will learn to forget. She would make it forget.

"I have never seen so much blood loss in any childbirth. I am afraid…"

Soujiro looked toward her room as Aoshi cast his eyes on the floor. 

"How long does my wife have?" he asked. The okashira cringed at the words he had endured it for as long as he could. He didn't want to cause Misao grief by showing his disfavor of their marriage openly. But not now, not now when he was in danger of loosing her once more. _I lost her once I won't loose her again. _

"I don't know, maybe tomorrow. Maybe tonight, next week, next month. There is no way of knowing for sure." The doctor shook his head sadly.

"Do something for her!!!" Soujiro screamed, panic in his voice. "Save her or so help me…" he grabbed the old man's collar, pulling him up with him. Aoshi's hand restrained him.

"Go to your wife while there is still time." he said stoically. He looked into the enraged man's eyes. There was a certain fire in them that he saw only once before. It was when he was about to kill. 'Til now it seemed as if those eyes had disappeared forever from Seta Soujiro's smile. He laughed inwardly. _Seta is like me and Himura, once the fire has been lit, nothing will quell it._

"Misao!" the sudden outburst from Okina drew the two men from their silent battle as they looked in the direction where everyone was staring.

Misao stood leaning on the doorframe. Her face pale and her kimono was loosely resting on her shoulders. She did not even tie an obi around her. He hair lied limply around her head as she held out Aoshi's kodachis. Her bloody inside kimono heavily contrasted the light fabric of the one outside. 

"What are you doing? You should be in bed!" Okina ordered.

"I will not die lying down!" she screamed her voice containing a determination her body could not display. "On guard Aoshi!" she yelled throwing him his swords.

"What?" Omasu asked horrified.

"I am Oniwabanshuu. I will die an honorable death." She whispered getting into a stance.

"You are crazy!" Okon whimpered tears in her eyes.

"An honorable death okashira. That is my last request." He knew what she wanted the moment she revealed herself to them. By the despair he saw in Soujiro's eyes he understood the younger man knew as well. 

He glanced at his still sheathed swords and into the set eyes of the woman in front of him. _Stubborn 'til the very end eh Misao?_

"Please okashira." She whispered in tears. "Please Aoshi." She finished. 

It was the first time she had ever called him that. Aoshi wanted to hear his name whispered by her voice once more. Oh how he wanted every part of her to become his. To be held in his arms when she has so cruelly abandoned him.

Soujiro looked at his wife. Her tenacity was admirable. And he hated her for it. He felt his heart break as she stood there. Her trembling fingers holding three kunais seemed so small when he held them in his. How he longed to hold her once more.

Aoshi looked in to the resolute blue eyes that stared at him. How his heart bled for her. And in his eyes he felt a burning so profound and deep. And he felt a strange sensation on his cheeks and it entered his mouth filling it with a saltiness unknown to him. _Tears? Are these tears?_ He asked. The sensation felt so alien to him and the surprised comments from the people in the room confirmed his speculation.

"He is shedding tears?" Omasu exclaimed.

"All my years I have never seen you weep Aoshi. I guess there is a first time for everything." Okina muttered. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about the poor child trembling at the door. Only her face did not change at his sudden display of tears.

"Misao…" he started seeing blood run down her legs.

"Yaaah!" she screamed running toward him. He drew his swords and took his stance. Then he saw it, the slight falter in her steps. And he threw away his swords and caught her just before her legs gave way.

He was kneeling in front of her. Holding her. And she looked up at him her eyes full of supplication. He brushed her hair from her face and he smiled. "I cannot think of a more honorable death than a mother's Misao." 

"Ao…shi" she broke down sobbing into his chest.

Soujiro looked away. He was holding her as if she was meant to be held by him. His wife lay dying in the arms of another man. And it drove him insane. 

He knew he should tell Soujiro to take his place. But he couldn't, he wanted to hold her most of all. _Let me be selfish for once. Let me hold her once more before I loose her._

He buried his head into her hair and let his newfound tears cascade onto her face. The smell of her blood congesting his nostrils. And he sighed a grim smile escaping his lips. _I have never been happier in my life than at this moment_.

Soujiro knelt beside them holding on to Misao's hand. "Smile for me Misao, one last time." he smiled sadly.

"I will always smile for you Sou…" 

No. Soujiro screamed in his head.

No. Aoshi wept in his. 

"Nooooo!!!" Soujiro screamed. The child in Okon's arms began to wail.

"He knows." Aoshi whispered as he got up leaving Misao's lifeless body in her husband's arms. His kimono was stained with her blood. And he looked into Misao's eyes, drowning in their own oblivion.

He took the child in his arms and looked over his shoulder at Soujiro. He was cradling her body gently rocking her, whispering something into her deaf ears. He took him outside into the cool night air. The wind howled as it swept past them.

"Even the wind is lamenting her loss." He smiled to the child. He knelt in front of a tree, the child he lay on the grass between his knees. The child started to cry and flail its arms finding itself suddenly wrenched from his mother's bosom and thrust into the cold harsh world. But Aoshi Shinomori did not hear him for he was deaf to the world. All he could feel was the tears streaking his face and the cold fragile rustle of an old paper crane against his chest.

He laid irises on her grave as he held his son. He traced the engraved characters on the stone's face. Seta Misao. _The stone does not suit her_. He thought. _The face of a cold stone can never replace her beautiful smile._

He handed the boy to Aoshi who stood behind him. He looked at him puzzled.

"Raise my son Aoshi." He muttered. Aoshi regarded him with his usual cold look. 

"You are his father." He said listlessly not taking the child from him.

"What kind of life can I give him?" he said almost sadly. "A life of a hitokiri is not fit for a child."

"So you have decided to go back to killing then?"

"It is the only thing I know."

"Will you abandon your wife's and son's love?"

"I love Misao, more than my life."

"Then stay and raise her son."

"No I cannot soil my son with my hands. He is better off with you, and here he will have memories of his mother surrounding him."

"Will you desecrate Misao's memory by wallowing in your own selfishness? Will you destroy the man Misao loved?"

"She made me so happy. The Soujiro Misao married is the only significant part of me and he is buried deep inside me now. Deeper than the ocean can fathom. I will not let the world distort those three years. Forgive me this one last selfishness."

"You are a worthless bastard Seta, don't do this to your son."

"I am doing this for my son."

"And what of the Misao's dreams?" 

Soujiro looked at the ground before looking into Aoshi's hard stare. "A raven will never be a dove." He stated smiling. A cold shiver ran up Aoshi's spine as he took the child in his arms. 

He watched as Soujiro walked away. He stopped and turned around his face serious "The boy is your son now, as it should always of had been. But the next time we meet I will destroy you Shinomori." And with that he smiled once more. His cold unfeeling smile. 

"One more thing okashira, I am not the man Misao loved." He said behind his back. Not turning to look at him.

~end~

I'm not sure with my usage of Japanese terms, I just had to write this!

Notes:

Ok please don't hurt me. I just had to end it that way. Ease up on the tongue-lashing ok? This is my first fanfic after all.

Ok ok I know the characters are sort of out of character. But like a wise fried told me, love makes you get out of character. True right?

the Paper cranes were supposed to be the symbol of love in this fic. The fic centers on three promises, Misao's to Soujiro to be his wife, Soujiro to Misao not to kill and Aoshi's to Misao to make her happy. Now each character had to face a conflict in his promise, whether to uphold honor or to let love reign supreme. Obviously all three upheld their honor and did not go back on their promises. Misao and Aoshi's promise sort of ends here but Soujiro's is the center of the sequel I made. 

Anyway anyone who wishes to put my fic on their sites may do so. (nudge…nudge…wink…wink) it's a hint!!! Just please notify me and put my e-mail addy so I could get comments from those that read it.

Before I end this I would like to thank everyone for spending time to read this and sorry if I offended anyone. A thousand apologies. 

Oh yeah in the next fic, I have named Soujiro and Misao's child Nakiwara which came from nakiwarai(smiling through tears) I know its not a legitimate name but man o man does it ever serve my purpose! Any suggestions for the name please post them. Much obliged. :P

Man did this ever turn out cheezy!!!


	3. if and when

If and when   
  
I see you sitting alone   
I wish to sit beside you   
But even now, after so much time   
Heaven and earth are still worlds apart   
  
You smile, happy where you are   
Happy to pretend, happy not to understand   
Perhaps it is time you believed   
In other things   
  
Give up tiny dove   
Fall to the earth and forget the sun   
And let me catch you   
And enfold you in my arms   
  
Perhaps you would see the world   
And not the place you long to see   
And perhaps then, you would love me   
And perhaps then you would let me love you   
  
Notes:   
I wrote this a couple of months ago.   
Its supposedly Soujiro's thoughts before they separated.   
Wishing she's give up on Aoshi and love himinstead. 


	4. of hatred and running streams

Characters are not mine, I would appreciate comments though.   
A sequel to Of paper cranes and promises.   
  
Of Hatred and Running Streams   
  
He paused as he heard a something that sounded like a gurgle in the man's mouth as he drove his own sword into his throat. He smiled as blood splattered on his face. He sheathed his bloodless sword and turned around to leave.   
  
He heard it. It was like a whimper trying to be suppressed. He moved near the adjoining door. He slid the door open and it revealed a little boy of about five, his face was streaked with tears and he had his fist in his mouth. Biting down to suppress any sound he might make. He studied the boy for a moment and found it humorous when piss started to trickle down his hakama. He poised his sword , a quick flash of silver and the boy was lying on the floor. His thin white throat forever stained with a crescent shaped wound the color of roses.   
  
He stepped out in to the cold winter evening and looked back. Something was bothering him. But he did not know what. Did he leave something inside? No. Did he forget something? No. What was it? What did he forget?   
  
/Something about the boy./   
  
He moved back into the house. Silently and slowly, he knew this was suicide. Once you've done what you came for you leave. Otherwise it could get risky. But the nagging sensation did not leave him. He had to see the body one last time.   
  
The boy was definitely the son of the official. The fine clothes and uncallused hands told him of this truth. There wasn't enough time to get him away from the house so they just hid him. This was most probably what happened. This sudden turn of events was not bad, far from it. This way none would be left to avenge the murder he has just committed. Or, to be more precise, the suicide he forced them to commit.   
  
What was troubling him? A boy without a father, he had seen to many of these, created too many of these to feel regret now. Not that this one would be alive to be one. What was it then?   
  
/A promise?/ He furrowed his head trying to think. /A promise I made./   
  
***   
He heard it. A soft dull thud. Wood against wood. He was at it again. He smiled and sat up. He wouldn't get much sleep even if he tried, so what was the use.   
  
Every night it was the same. She would come towards him. Her smile still etched in his subconscious, her long black hair billowing in the imaginary breeze and her blue eyes that could, would forever, penetrate into his soul, eyes that were never denied passage. She would see what he was, all his dreams, all his hopes, all his sins and all that could have been. And again she would smile as she falls in to his arm and become enveloped in them almost perfectly. As if she was made to fit into his embrace. She would look up into his eyes. Her eyes of deep, so very deep, blue and he would loose himself in it. And she would move closer to him, till he could smell her scent of sunlight and open fields. Her lips would move up opposite his, till he could almost feel their softness. Then always, always he would waken before they touched. Always. A love unconsummated.   
  
He smiled what was the use? He got up and proceeded towards the training hall. He opened the door stepping inside before closing it behind him. He turned to face he who had awakened him with his unearthly hour for practice. He was stunned for a moment. He was always taken aback at how uncanny the resemblance his laughing eyes had to hers, how it was like looking into her own.   
  
"Couldn't this have waited till the morning Nakiwara?" he smiled as the name rolled from his tongue, he had given him that name. /Each smile he has now was bought by each tear Misao had shed. She had wept enough for both of them, perhaps this child will not know what it means to cry./   
  
"If I will ever get this right it will not be through sleeping all the time."   
  
He nodded his consent as he watched his young pupil continue with his stances. He smiled, he was so like her. Even in his stubbornness. The boy had started his learning early; he had chosen his weapon even before he could wield it. Perhaps it was his blood calling him to take up the katana. Whatever it was ever since the three-year-old Nakiwara held the katana of his great grandfather he would not let it go. And now four years later he had almost mastered the basics to perfection. He had a natural skill that made teaching him easy and his in-born stubbornness was somewhat of a blessing. Soon he would be ready to take up a real sword.   
  
"Sensei! Am I doing this right?" he asked bringing Aoshi from his thoughts.   
  
"Your grip is too tight, loosen it a little." He ordered. Perhaps tomorrow he would let him practice with the katana; it was about time he got used to the weight and the balance that a real sword has.   
  
"Enough! Get some rest you have done well." He said rubbing his eyes. The boy nodded and bowed before his master. He left him there to tidy up he knew Nakiwara would not disobey his orders. He entered his room and sat awhile thinking about the past, as was his wont. He had nothing but memories now, and for him that was enough, it was almost dawn when he decided to curl up and sleep, falling deeper into the embrace of that one dream.   
  
***   
It was almost dawn now and he stared at the blood drying on his sword. He should wipe it he knew, but it did not matter.   
  
His mind shifted to seven years ago, of a woman's beautiful blue eyes staring into his own. Of a soft hand enclosed in his. Of a sweet voice echoing in his head. /A man who will not kill./ She whispered those words as if it were that easy to achieve. And as he looked into those ocean-blue eyes he almost believed it was.   
  
Now he had betrayed her. All these years he had been an assassin never had he stained his sword with another's blood until now. He closed his eyes willing for the darkness to leave his soul. But it would never leave his black soul, it fed on his frozen heart and cruel smile. Never would it leave him.   
  
Seven years since he made his own son fatherless. Seven years since he buried his wife beneath the soil. Seven years since he buried himself deep within his black soul.   
  
***   
The Aoiya bustled with the excitement the customers seemed to bring. Ever since the tragedy that took their Misao, none would think that laughter would return but when her son started to grow horns it seemed as if they got more than what they bargained for. His practical jokes kept everyone on guard. He was worse than Misao and Okina combined. And although it was not said, one could plainly see that his mischievous ways helped them cope with the loss of his mother.   
  
He wove in and out of the kitchen and the sitting room, barely missing the two exasperated waitresses that kept throwing reproachful glances in his direction.   
  
"Nakiwara! Watch where you are going!" Omasu frowned while trying to balance the plates on her tray. He stuck his tongue out at her and ran towards the door before she could react. She smiled. /Ahhh! Naki-chan never change./   
  
He was picking the best salmon Kuro had asked him to get while balancing the tub of tofu he had on his head. Having completed his task he began to wobble his way toward the Aoiya.   
  
He almost laughed out loud seeing the boy do his shaky dance. He took the tofu off his head seconds before the boy fell to the ground.   
  
"Ah sensei! I can manage."   
  
"I don't think so. Come on Kuro needs these." He smiled to the boy. As they walked home the child began to talk about trivial things and Aoshi tried to listen unabashedly showing his amusement at what he was saying. He was fond of the boy, ever since his father left him in his arms he had felt a certain affection. And a need to protect him, he had failed to protect his mother so now he would do everything not to fail him.   
  
"Hey Aoshi-sama, do you remember when we used to float paper boats on the river?" he nodded the memory filling his head.   
  
"Why did we stop doing that?" he asked.   
  
/Why indeed?/ Aoshi looked at the boy. "I thought you grew tired of those?"   
  
"Why would I get tired of beating you in boat racing? Besides swimming afterwards is always fun! We can still catch trout and I would still catch more than you!" he laughed, getting cocky.   
Aoshi smiled, this was their little secret.   
  
"But of course now I will have to keep my underwear on. I mean it's not right that you see me butt-naked before you." He stated his head burrowing in confusion.   
  
Aoshi suppressed a laugh. /Child I have seen you naked more than you have,/ he thought. His mind raced to a time, years ago when he held an infant in his arms. His hand, so used to wielding a sword was even more adept at bathing a child. And bathe him he did for Nakiwara would not let anyone touch him during this sacred ritual, none but Aoshi. Never had he thought that those scarred hands of his would hold something so delicate. But he had once before.   
  
"Perhaps Nakiwara, when time permits us." /It seems I have too little of that left./ He thought. /Already you are growing so fast before my eyes, just as she did. But I will not leave you Nakiwara, but I beg you do not leave me as she did. Do not leave me./   
  
"Ok! I'll show you, I may never be better than you in sword fighting but I will beat you in boat racing, this I promise you Aoshi-sama!" he laughed.   
  
They entered the kitchen and placing the items on the counter Nakiwara waited for instructions.   
  
"Peel the potatoes." Shiro ordered over his shoulder. He looked at the sack of potatoes on the tabletop, unsure. "Come on Naki-chan, I've shown you how."   
  
"Yeah but it's not like I got it! Besides that's woman's work!" He frowned. He sighed, sat himself down and began his job. Aoshi looked at the frowned look on the boy's face, stopping momentarily whenever he accidentally cuts himself.   
  
"How do you suppose you will become a skilled swordsman if you can't even peel a potato," he muttered sitting down beside him. Kuro and Shiro jumped at the man's voice.   
  
"Okashira! I did not notice you!" Shiro exclaimed. Aoshi waved his hand urging them to not take notice of him and continue with what they were doing.   
  
"It's like wielding a sword, you have to be gentle and smooth in your movements." He demonstrated this to the boy and helped him with his chore.   
  
Shiro and Kuro threw a knowing look towards each other. The boy had finished what his mother had started years ago, he had brought Aoshi out of his shell. A feat only Misao had once accomplished. And although he would never admit it the boy was dearer to him than as if he were his own child.   
  
Aoshi looked at the child beside him. /This looks perfect. He looks perfect./ And as he saw the child suck at another wound, he felt a certain pride. The pride of a father. /Perhaps you would not know what it means to cry. I will not let you./   
  
"Aoshi." Okina called him and by the look on his old face Aoshi knew it was serious.   
  
"What is it?" but the old man did not answer he just led Aoshi to the training hall. He saw a man sitting alone on the floor a sword before him. His long hair fell to his waist and his tattered clothes bore the sign of a wanderer. A smile was across his handsome face.   
  
***   
He did not know why he came back to Kyoto. Everything reminded him of her. And knowing the child, his child, whom he had not set eyes on for almost seven years was somewhere inside made missing her unbearable. Being in the place where she once breathed sent unwanted memories into his head and he closed his eyes. /I was happy here once. She made me happy./   
  
"It's been a long time Shinomori." He greeted him.   
  
"Seta." He nodded.   
  
"I have come to finish what I have started." He nodded in answer. "Of course you know this is the last hour of your life."   
  
"I have long been prepared for this."   
  
"As have I." And with that the younger man stood up and tied his hair back as Okina handed Aoshi his kodachis.   
Soujiro drew his sword and took his stance and Aoshi braced himself for a fight he knew he was going to lose. His skill would not match Soujiro's and time was on the younger man's side.   
  
Aoshi drew his twin swords, glimmering in their joy as he held them once more. /Never did I think I would hold you again. I promised myself I would never wield you again. But for now, just this one time, I must feel you in my hands to protect Nakiwara's happiness, and to make Soujiro see the truth he has long since ignored./   
  
A whistling sound and Aoshi felt a searing pain in his right thigh. /Damn, I did not even see that coming!/ Soujiro took another stance, Aoshi looked at him with unbroken concentration, willing the pain to disappear. He saw Soujiro move to his side and barely made out his point of contact. /Shit!/ He cursed underneath his breath as he barely dodged his opponent's thrust, the blade grazing his forehead. Soujiro took another stance. This time Aoshi heard a very distinct sound that had told him their steels had kissed. He matched him, each move he countered, every attack was faced with another equaling its strength. Aoshi collected his thoughts and formed his next move in his mind. He would lead with his right and as Soujiro blocks his thrust he would turn and catch him on his blind side, giving him an opening. He took a breath and took his stance. He executed it perfectly and was rewarded by the feel of his steel devouring the soft flesh it has long abstained from.   
  
He was out of breath, the move took more out of him than he had intended. The sheer speed he had to utilize was well beyond his capacity and it was pretty obvious that Soujiro did more in his seven-year absence than mere wandering. /The Seta I first met by Shishio's side was already very skilled, when we met once more, his technique was so varied it was hard to observe a pattern and now it seems as if his speed and ability have improved even more, if that is possible at Seta's level. He would surpass Himura now, Aoshi thought, even Battousai./   
  
"Tell me again Seta. Why is this battle taking place?" he asked feeling the blood trickle down his forehead.   
  
"You don't know?" he laughed. "Forgive me, I was not aware of your ignorance. It is a debt you have not yet pad."   
  
"Forgive me but I do not recall taking anything from you."   
  
"Oh but you did." A look of hatred passing across his face. "She was my only salvation Shinomori, and you took her away from me."   
  
"You are blind Seta." Aoshi smiled.   
  
"And why is that eh? Enlighten me." /He smiled,/ Soujiro thought. /All her life she tried to make him smile. And I never could understand this, for why did she forever chase his one smile when I have always smiled for her?/   
  
"You use her memory as an excuse to free the hatred that is found in your soul. You tell yourself that you had been wronged and thus have the right to be angry and hurt. You mask the pain that eats you within with the blood you spill." Soujiro let out a cold unfeeling smile. "Misao loved you, yet you desecrate this love by using her name as a justification of the sins you commit. She was your salvation. But I did not take her away from you, you turned your back on her." Soujiro's eyes widened at what he said. The memory of the child he had killed crept into his mind. He had betrayed her. He had turned his back on her. /Damn you Shinomori,/ he spat out. The truth tasted bitter, but not as bitter as witnessing her die in his arms, not as bitter as losing the only one that completed him, not as bitter as seeing his one happiness being denied him.   
  
"Heh perhaps, perhaps." He smiled even wider and took his stance.   
  
***   
He felt the pain sear up his finger as another cut was added to his collection. /Owwww! Stupid potatoes! I should be practicing with my katana. Stupid house chores.../ his thoughts were cut short when he heard the clashing of swords. /Alright! Aoshi-sama is in a fight! Perhaps now I'll be able to see him really fight!/ He had always resented the way Aoshi shielded him from everything. Everything! He dropped his knife and ran out the kitchen.   
  
"Oi Naki-chan!" Shiro called after him. But the child was halfway to the training hall by then.   
  
He slid the door just a crack and peeked inside, knowing full well that he was going to be scolded. He saw Aoshi first, his kodachis were in his hands and he was getting into a stance, his eyes were fixed on something across the room. He was breathing heavily but from his position, Nakiwara could not see the blood that had began to flow. He shifted his position to look at his opponent. He had never seen him before. He looked like he couldn't of had been older than Kuro. His long hair was tied at the top of his head and his clothes bore the signs of a wanderer. He held his sword effortlessly and a displaced smile played upon his lips.   
  
And, for some reason Nakiwara felt afraid.   
  
***   
Aoshi closed his eyes. The sting in his thigh was only surpassed by the pain of the gaping wound in his abdomen. By the burning he felt on his back, he knew that Soujiro's nihontu had connected and the blood blurring his vision made his position dangerous. /What now Seta? Is this what you wanted? /   
  
His left waist hurt with the wound he had received and the blood trickled from the cut on his cheek and slid into his mouth. He tasted the sweetness of his own blood and smiled. /What now Shinomori? Is this how you want to die?/   
  
Soujiro took his stance.   
  
Aoshi braced himself for the onslaught.   
  
***   
It was over, he knew it before it even began. Perhaps this is how it was truly supposed to end. In truth he had hoped to be killed by Soujiro, the death of Misao left a burden on his shoulders that not even the child could help him lighten. It was the burden of being alive. And of feeling the coldness of the night seep into your soul, of happiness never meant to be shared, of the loneliness eating you from within. It was his burden and if death would set him free then he welcomed it   
  
Sweet death, dark and endlessly beautiful, and perhaps she would greet him with a lover's kiss. A kiss fully consummated.   
  
And then he thought of the boy peeling potatoes in the other room. Did he not say he would not leave him? /Forgive me Nakiwara, I could not keep my promise. Let me loose myself in her embrace at last. Please. He sighed; I am weak, so weak./   
  
"Yaahrg!" Soujiro let out a battle cry and charged at him, his pain blinding him and his hatred feeding his rage that escaped him in a desperate cry and a deluge of blood. But it still was not enough. Not enough for the pain to subside, not enough to fill the void. Nothing would ever be enough, he needed her, this was his one solitary truth.   
  
Aoshi found himself fluttering to the floor, being embraced by its wooden hands and cradled in its hardness.   
  
"Sensei!" Nakiwara came rushing towards the fallen Aoshi but Okina held him back. "Let me go! Aoshi-sama" His eyes widened at the presence of the boy, his son. He broke free of the elder man's grip and ran to his master's body, burying his face in his chest and washing his wounds with his tears.   
  
"Please sensei get up." He whispered. "Please Aoshi-sama, what of the boat races we were to have? What of the boat races you promised?" he cried pounding on the still chest. He took up one of Aoshi's swords and took a stance before the stranger.   
  
"I must avenge my master's honor! Even if I die." He said boldly, his eyes filling with tears. Soujiro looked at the sword in the boy's trembling hands. /Must we be forever separated by a sword?/   
  
"Tell me boy what is your name?" he asked coming closer to the child.   
  
"S...Seta Nakiwara." He stuttered.   
  
"Tell me who is your father?"   
  
"Seta Soujiro."   
  
"What do you know of him?"   
  
"What has this got to do with it? We must fight!" he asked shifting the unfamiliar sword in his hands.   
  
"Do not be in such a hurry to die! Answer my question." He ordered calmly.   
  
"Only that he was a great warrior and that he died with honor protecting my mother that he loved dearly." He stated proudly.   
  
"And what of your mother?"   
  
"That she was well loved and that she was Oniwabanshuu."   
  
"Did you know that your mother had beautiful eyes like the ocean at midnight? Much like yours." The confusion on the boy's face made Soujiro laugh. "Why did you feed him such lies Shinomori?" he asked looking at the man who's weak but steady breath he had heard again seconds ago.   
  
"I did not tell him lies." He muttered quietly.   
  
"Sensei!" Nakiwara ran to his side a smile of relief verging on his lips.   
  
"So you shield him from the harsh truth. A weakling child is of no use."   
  
"I told him the truth, of a man who loved a woman so much he died for her. You killed that man, you said so yourself."   
  
"So I have."   
  
"I wanted him to hear the truth from you, you owe him that much." He looked at Aoshi as he painfully opened his eyes. "Know your son Soujiro, you owe Misao that much." The boy looked up at him.   
  
"Sensei..." the boy's eyes were pleading for an answer from his master's expressionless face.   
  
"For Misao..." and he closed his eyes for the last time.   
  
"Sensei!"   
  
"Hush child this is how he wanted it to be." Okina said bowing his head.   
  
/That was the first time he had ever called me by my first name./ Soujiro thought humor welling up inside him.   
  
The boy looked at the floor, tears threatening to fall once more. He was confused. /Was this the man that killed my father? Sensei said so himself. Was he the one that took my parents from me? Was he the one? And now he has taken Aoshi-sama as well. What have I done to receive such punishment? What have I done to this man for him to hate me so? This man has taken my fathers from me, everything I ever had he has taken from me. Everything./ And he felt his smile forever leave his lips.   
  
Soujiro looked at Aoshi's body and a slow movement caught this eye. She moved towards Aoshi, her hair like a procession trailing behind. She knelt beside him now, caressing his face and kissing the top of his forehead. Aoshi stood up holding her hand in his and drawing her deep inside his embrace. She turned around and looked at Soujiro and extended her hand to him her face revealing a smile.   
  
/Ahhh!/ He let out a slow labored sigh. For one moment he let all his longing float to the surface. For one moment he made the world cease existing. For one moment he forgot who he was and let the man, he tried so desperately to kill escape from his prison deep inside of him. For one moment he let himself revel in the happiness he felt and he let one solitary smile escape his lips. A real smile. For one moment, only a moment.   
  
She was as he remembered her. Her eyes still as blue as the first time he saw them. Her smile still as beautiful as he had engraved in his heart. Her smell still fills his nostrils with memories long since forgotten. He wanted to take her hand, to hold her in his arms like he wanted to that night seven-years ago. His desire left him weak and he cursed himself for it. And deep down inside, before he could stop it, it broke through his wall, voicing the torment he had to endure. /Please, please don't leave me again./   
  
And then he closed his eyes, his moment ending.   
  
He looked at the boy then, turned and walked away.   
  
***   
Shinomori Aoshi. That was all it said. He bowed his head and offered up a prayer to the deafened wind. His tears had long since refused to fall.   
  
Okina glanced sadly at the boy. /He has changed, Soujiro forced him to change. Ever since that night, he has aged. His eyes have grown old. A boy forced to be a man. Sorry angel, I could not protect your son from himself. I could not protect him from the blood that flows in his veins and the curse that has found itself in his bosom./ He looked painfully at the child once more. /Nothing I can say can console him. He feels he has lost everything./   
  
The boy looked at the stone that bore the last remnant of the man he loved more than anything in his life, just as his mother did. And as he got up off his knees, /I vow to the heavens above and the to the sun that bears silent witness to my grief, I will avenge you sensei, his blood shall water the earth that cradles you now./   
  
***   
Okina felt it, he looked at the solitary tree that was enthroned upon the hill overlooking the grave, a faint glimmer of blue caught his eye. The stern look on the boy's face implied that he had not noticed the lone figure that offered his own prayers to the gods he had long since stopped believing in.   
  
***   
Nakiwara ran towards the kitchen, busy with the evening's preparations, the others took no notice of him. Okina drew the boy to one side.   
  
"There is someone waiting for you outside." He nodded and walked towards the kitchen. Sliding the door ajar to pass through. Outside leaning on the wall was the man who murdered his sensei. He could feel the hatred burning inside of him and he wanted to feel the cold steel of his master's sword against his palm once more.   
  
Soujiro noticed the boy's clenched fists and smiled. "Walk with me boy." And with that he began to walk towards the street. He stopped and looked behind him, the boy not moving from his position, fists clenched to the point of drawing blood. The boy looked up at him and began to walk toward his direction.   
  
/I will suffer this now, and I will find the strength I need to kill this man, this I swear./   
  
They had walked around Kyoto for quite some time, in silence, neither cared to speak. They neared the Aoiya and it was quite evident that he was bringing back the boy. The faint din emanating from the brightly-lit restaurant only made the sadness that enveloped them both even more evident.   
  
/What the hell is wrong with him? He just took me out for a stroll?/   
  
"Answer me this boy, what has made you happy?" he asked his face serious.   
Nakiwara thought for a moment, thinking if he should answer him truthfully.   
  
"Happy?" he stopped, thinking how absurd his question seemed to be. But the looked into his eyes with a hatred not mirrored in them. /This is my enemy. Why should I even answer his question?/ He looked away in defeat. He would suffer this now. "My parents left me even before I could recognize their faces, but it did not matter. I had Aoshi-sama. My parents loved each other very much and died to fight for my happiness. Knowing this provides me the will to go on living and the pride to carry on my father's name and my mother's memory." Soujiro nodded and left the boy at the Aoiya's entrance.   
  
Nakiwara entered the crowded Aoiya and went directly to the room he shared with Kuro and Shiro, finding himself tired. Okina threw a knowing glance at the boy and patted his head in consolation.   
  
/The pride to carry on his father's name, ha! A name I did not even bequeath. You named him well Shinomori and I thank you for this./ He stopped.   
  
/He has his mother's eyes. Oh god Misao he is so beautiful! He has so much of you inside of him. Will I ever be free from your blue eyes?/ He asked looking deep into the raven sky, watching the fireflies in their elfin dance. And he sighed; he didn't want to be free from those eyes.   
  
Every day for a year he came, fetching him from the Aoiya, wandering around the retiring Kyoto, basking in the saffron legacy the dying sun graced them with, asking him a different question, before leaving him alone, in the darkness.   
  
One night as they went about their nightly ritual, Nakiwara had long grown accustomed to his strange companion. He would pass the day feverishly practicing what Aoshi had taught him, and when the sunset announced his presence, he would step out into the world with the man he had already begun to hate. And as he walked amid the great city, he nursed this hatred that filled his dreams with nightmares and his heart with an emptiness that seemed to invade the little happiness he had.   
  
He wondered why this monster had not asked another of his irrelevant questions as they stopped at the Aoiya.   
  
"I have one last question child...a request actually." He looked at him after a long silence. "I will wait for you on the bridge bordering Kyoto in the south tomorrow morning. I am asking you to come with me." His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "I am offering you this one chance to kill me." And with that he left.   
  
He spent half the night sitting up in his room. Trying to decide what to do. The soft melody the crickets spun on their legs seemed to make his decision even harder. He was so confused. Only eight years old and he was forced to make such a choice. He knew this would determine the life he must lead. Nothing is sadder than a child forced to abandon his laughter and become the man they needed him to be.   
  
To abandon the only home and family that loved him and leave with the man he so despised. He looked at Aoshi's kodachis that he had placed in his drawers. He stood up knowing what he had to do.   
  
Okina looked at the shadowy figure he saw melting into the bleakness of the night. /It has begun. The circle of hatred that will consume him. Angel save him from this, save them both from this./ He pleaded to the silent stars.   
  
The dawn came slowly, tormenting his already pained soul. He had been standing on the bridge, listening to the secrets the passing river whispered since the previous night. His numb hands never loosening the grip it had on his great grandfather's valiant sword.   
  
If the night was cold he did not feel it, for all he could feel was the furious beating of his heart as the sun began to announce his presence.   
  
He stood beside him. He almost jumped at his sudden presence. Soujiro looked down at the boy, he had hoped that the child would come to his senses and just stay with the Oniwabanshuu. He was almost certain that this would destroy his son. But he could do nothing, just as this boy could not prevent himself from falling further into the bottomless pit of despair he found himself teetering at the edge of. He was his son and his heritage was a curse.   
  
***   
The thin paper walls could not conceal the muffled cries and yearning for a mother the boy never knew. It was sad to see him grow up never seeing her smile. Never hearing her voice. Never feeling her touch. How could you console a child who lost his mother? How could you sing the lullaby meant only for him? A face unrecognized. A love unknown.   
  
He could not get used to his closeness. For seven years he had lived alone. Coming into human contact only when his employers required his services and when he actually gave it. And now the constant presence unnerved him.   
  
When he left him in Aoshi's arms he thought that would be the end of it. That he would never set eyes on he that was the temple of their union. He was all he had of her now, and this made him resent the boy even more. Not because he was the reason she left him, but rather because he longed to hold him in his arms and kiss his forehead and tell him how much he loved his mother and how much he was willing to love him now. But he shook his head he had surrendered his right to claim the boy for his own the moment he turned his back on the him that day on his mother's grave. And he had surrendered the right to love him when he had betrayed his mother and broken his promise by killing that child.   
  
/I did not complete my ten-year journey. I did not find who I truly was. She made me leave my searching; she made me forget what I had needed to find. Perhaps if she didn't come into my life and if I had become that man, perhaps I could love you, perhaps I would not have betrayed her, perhaps I would not be this monster./   
  
He could hear the breathing of the child in the other room. His dream had stopped. Perhaps in it he had found the mother he calls out for. He envied the boy, not even in his dreams had he caught a glimmer of her smile. He was even denied the pleasure of seeing her in his mind. Of reliving the memories he still had. He closed his eyes, pleading for the longing to vacate the throne it had in his heart.   
  
***   
Five years had passed.   
  
He was chopping firewood. A chore he did everyday when his sensei was away. He winced at this, he would not allow himself to call him that. 'He' would be sufficient. He had left him alone once again. Sometimes it would be days other times weeks. It was never certain how long he would be gone. Sometimes he would starve because his benefactor would not return promptly.   
  
But he had learned to survive. And he was grateful for this if for nothing else.   
  
He looked up at the sky. /Has it been five years? Have I been here that long? When will this hell end? When will I be able to avenge those that have meant so much to me? /He knew this man had killed his father and sensei and that he was a monster with no heart. But sometimes when he was not on his guard, he would catch glimpses of a man who used to laugh and who once knew what it was to love.   
  
A sudden rustle of dry leaves and his hand automatically sent one of the logs flying in that direction. A mist of wood shavings rose up as the intruder reacted to the warm welcome Nakiwara gave him.   
  
"Too slow." Was all he said as he sheathed his sword.   
  
He was tired and he his body ached from the long journey. He was glad he was home. He told the boy to take his sword and go into the woods. He told him to be on his guard at all times because if he gave him the chance, he would kill him without hesitation. A fact the boy knew well.   
  
***   
He contemplated his son. The boy was unusually skilled and he absorbs all Soujiro teaches him as if nothing would quell the thirst he had inside. Soujiro smiled at this. He knew what that burning felt like.   
  
Almost three hours had passed before Soujiro decided to go after his pseudo pupil. He found him quite easily, the impatient child had begun to cook his kill. Soujiro shook his head. /Stupid./   
  
His ears shot up. A burning pain hit him squarely on the shoulders./ Shit! Where is my sword!/ He almost yelled out loud. /Don't panic Nakiwara or you are done for./ He grasped his katana getting into a stance as he faced his opponent.   
  
His shoulder was already bleeding and his arms were still sore from shopping the wood all afternoon. He looked into the older man's eyes and saw something fierce flicker in them. He swallowed hard. /Shit! /   
  
Soujiro left him lying on the earth. His body quickly losing blood from the eighteen slashes he had received from his sensei's sword.   
  
/No tears? Good./ He smiled to himself. The boy got a hit in. He noticed touching the blood found on his neck. /Only one but almost fatal./   
  
He went to the river to start washing his wound. He looked at himself at the river's immaculate surface that turned a cloudy crimson when he dipped his bloodied hand in it. He began to scoop up water to wash away the blood seeping from his wounded neck. He cringed at the sudden coldness of the water that masked the sting that indicated that the boy was adept at using his sword.   
  
He looked at his reflection as he began to tie his disheveled hair. But his hands stopped in the middle of his second knot as something caught his eye. On his neck, barely visible, was a remnant of a scar he had acquired almost fifteen years ago.   
  
He touched his fingers to the little brown circles found on his neck. His eyes clouded by the distant memory of long ago. Of an autumn evening, of a warm fire and cold blue eyes, of a spirited girl, a hitokiri and the howling of wolves.   
  
When he was finally released from his reverie and he had returned, there was no sign of the boy.   
Nakiwara staggered towards the little hut, his vision blurry. His body screamed in agony but his mind had turned deaf to their pleas, all he heard was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the hatred that it seemed to whisper to the world.   
  
Soujiro knew without even checking that the boy was in his room asleep. His wounds already attended to. He did not know how long he sat by the river staring at the scar found on his neck. His memories leaving him paralyzed. He stepped into his room, not bothering to change out of his dirty kimono. He collapsed on the wooden floor, his head spinning. Then something familiar suddenly crept into his heart, slowly like the dawn banishing the beautiful night. Something he had not felt for such a long time. It left him weak and vulnerable. Eating at his strength and leaving him...empty. It was a feeling that was very familiar. It was despair.   
  
He dreamt of a field of flowers. The warm spring sun illuminated an ocean of colors before him. And he heard it. A laugh.   
  
He looked up at blue eyes filled with understanding. /Am I dreaming?/ He asked himself as he found his head resting on his wife's lap. /Then please don't let this end./ He whispered softly as he fell asleep to the gentle brushing of his wife's hand on his hair. Comforting him, taking away his pain, healing his wounds with her love.   
  
/Across whatever time and distance it is beloved I send you my love./   
  
***   
Three years had passed.   
He took his stance as he faced his only pupil. Today was the day that decided the boy's fate. He smiled at this. /Barely sixteen almost a man./ He thought. The boy had learned everything he had to teach. And he learned them well.   
  
"This is the moment you have been waiting for. The last eight years of your life falls on this." He smiled.   
  
"For my master's honor and my parent's memories, the skies will rain with your blood." He stated his eyes firm.   
  
For a moment he reconsidered facing him. Not because he was afraid of him because he was debating on whether he still wanted to kill him. But the memory of that night when he had struck down Aoshi and the memory of his mother crying out for a husband that had been killed by this...monster always brought the hatred he kept within burning to the surface. Filling him with a fire that would only be sated when this man's blood would flow like a river. And what of that man he had once caught a glimpse of? A man that would testify that the one in front of him was more than the monster he believed him to be. What then of that man?   
  
/A monster then? Is that what you have become? Did I make you that? Some father I am./ He scoffed. /This is not how it was supposed to end. You should have been a farmer, a blacksmith, a scholar anything but what you are now./   
  
He braced himself for the boy's attack. It all came to this. Nothing else mattered but this moment. Misao, save him. Was all he said before his sword glinted a beautiful silver.   
  
***   
He plunged his sword deep into the other man's chest. /I did it. I really did it./   
  
/He did it. He really did it. I did not falter. I did not make a wrong move. He really did it./ And Soujiro closed his eyes. There was no pain there was no guilt. It was simply done.   
  
Nakiwara's rejoicing was suddenly interrupted when to his surprise this demon that had filled his whole world with hatred held the back of his head and pressed his lips close to his ear. In a voice almost pleading.   
  
"Perhaps you will forgive me." And he collapsed, and for the first time in his life Seta Soujiro was complete and then his eternal smile went limp. He lied. He did find who he truly was. He was the man who lived to see his wife smile. He was the man who held her in his arms and rested his hand on his still unborn child. This was who he was and now he knew.   
  
Nakiwara looked down at him, puzzled at his last request. He saw Soujiro's own blood surrounding him, blood he had spilled. And as he flicked his sword free of Soujiro's red stain, one thought continually ached at his mind, culminating the chaos that filled his heart, where had his hatred gone?   
  
It had happened the hatred had come full circle. It started with his father, drowning in his self-told lies. And it had ended with him. His promise fulfilled, his hatred abated. Had it? Was it even there?   
  
He rose from his knees, his prayers still hung heavily in the air. There was nothing written on his grave. He did not even know his name.   
  
~end~   
  
Author's notes:   
The title (here I am with my titles) means of the hatred that was very evidently stated and running streams is Nakiwara's life and how this hatred made him alter it's course. Not to mention that the two very significant moments in the fic occurred beside a running body of water. Anyway 1 last to go, please continue reading, it is very short.   
Guessing who said the across whatever... thing? Guess no more! It was Misao saying that to Soujiro. Now comes the bigger question... whom did Misao truly love? Ok I leave that to you to find out.   
So what happens to poor Nakiwara? Does he become the hitokiri his father was? Will he return to the Oniwabanshuu and become the okashira? Will he ever know the truth? And which truth would it be?   
I've killed most of the original characters so what's the point of a last part right? I just don't like leavings things unfinished.   
Wait for the conclusion. ;P 


	5. of happiness and open fields

Characters are not mine, comments more than welcome.  
Continuation of, Of Hatred and Running Streams.   
This ends my fanfic. Thanks for reading.   
//-thoughts  
  
  
  
Of Happiness and Open Fields  
  
  
"You are his replacement then boy?" the man spat at him. Nakiwara to turn his head away from the stench coming form the other man's mouth. had   
  
"No I am not a hitokiri." He answered rather irritated. He had just buried the man he had lived with for eight years and hating which, was his only reason for getting up in the morning.   
  
He still couldn't believe it. It was over.   
  
"Well boy what do you think I am stupid? You are the only one aside from him that I see here. You will be properly compensated. Now what do you say?" he looked away. He had just learned that those sudden absences his master took, he took to kill people. He was a hitokiri. He thought with a tinge of awe.  
  
" I know you have the skills and I'm really desperate only he can pull this one off. Too bad he went up and died." The man went on rambling.   
  
Nakiwara decided that in order to get rid of this man he would have to give him some sort of answer. "I'll consider it."  
  
"Great I'll be back in two days then." He muttered in glee, rubbing his hands together sinisterly.  
  
/Ugh! Talk about foul!/ He laughed letting in a much-needed gasp of air inside his complaining lungs.   
  
He sat down facing the open door. It would start to snow soon and he had to get back to civilization before the great white lady caressed his face. He should have went down the mountain with the man but he would rather suffer eight more years with his former mentor than six hours of trying to holding his breath. He had never been off the mountain they had lived in the shadows of. He did not even know what mountain it was.  
  
A last crimson leaf broke free of its branch and began her slow dance to the ground, which welcomed her greedily.   
  
It was over.   
  
He had set in order all of the things in the small hut he had called home. That it was; a home. He was never unhappy here, no matter what anyone would say. He was never unhappy here. Perhaps the hate he was obliged to feel kept him from admitting that single truth.  
  
It had never occurred to him that when his purpose had been achieved that he would be so, reluctant to leave? What was holding him back there? Something he should have learned?   
  
He looked at the only thing that he had brought with him, his great-grandfather's sword. Something still wasn't right.  
  
The man he had buried a few hours ago seemed nothing more than a memory to him now. A memory of a coldhearted monster that destroyed everything he had loved. A collage of scars eternally embedded in his flesh. A deluge of nightmares and cold nights. And yet... and yet there was a faint memory of a blanket covering his shoulders when he shivered. A memory of food being shared when it was evident that there was hardly enough for one. A memory of a child crying softly in the darkness, leaving him with the question, which was the child of the two of them?  
  
No matter how he looked at it, that man will forever be etched in his memory. That man which was a mystery to him. Of a cold façade that hid something deep inside of him. As if he was afraid someone would see who he truly was. But Nakiwara saw and he never forgot that faint glimmer of a man he was not made to know.  
  
If he only knew his name, then may be...may be. May be what? There was nothing he could do, this was how it was supposed to end.  
  
/I thank you,/ he whispered before closing his eyes, /and I give you my forgiveness and perhaps I ask for yours, sensei./  
  
***  
"Heh! Mister hitokiri! Ahh I can't get through." Muttered the man as he scrambled to get to the little hut overwhelmed by the whiteness it was enveloped in.  
  
/His tenacity is admirable./ Nakiwara chuckled watching the man do his inane dance across the garden. He had hoped to have had left before that man came back again. But the snow had held him back. Only that? The snow? He knew he had something left to learn. Yet he could not find it.   
  
He considered his offer. He needed the money to get back to Kyoto and the man he was supposed to kill was corrupt and was rotting from the inside his employer assured him. Someone Japan could do without. Someone who made lives of other people a living hell. And he believed it. He believed it. Needing something to justify his answer. Needing something to purge his guilt.   
  
Had the circumstances been different may be his answer would be different. Had his father not loved his mother so much, had his mother not loved two men, had he not let his hate consume him, had he seen the truth earlier. But he didn't and things weren't different.  
  
"I will do it then."  
  
***  
He shifted his position. He could hear the old man's labored breath and he moved quickly. His dagger poised above his target's throat. He looked at the shriveled shell of a man that lay sleeping before him and his mind wandered to that little patch of garden Okina tended. He saw a young boy holding on to his Jiya's old robes. Crying over his spilled carrots. And the man in front of him began to change, it had contorted to almost resembling Okina, until it became Okina.   
  
His hand faltered and he brought the dagger back down, deciding that he had made a mistake but nicking the old man on his arm and spilling ancient blood on his hands.   
  
"Gyaah!" The old man woke with a start, terrified of the unfamiliar face before him. He began to call for help but his seasoned voice was forever silenced by the coldness of the steel that glinted in Nakiwara's hand.   
  
His eyes grew wide as the blood splattered across his face. But he instinctively drew his sword at the first sign of people rushing to rescue a man that was already dead. He took his stance...  
  
"Feh! What a mess!" his employer bellowed with his fetid breath. "The old one did things smoothly and quickly." He grumbled looking at the bloodstained boy. "Here is your money. I deducted a small amount because I was not pleased with your performance." He handed the new hitokiri a cloth bag that jingled with the promise of good food and a warm bed.  
  
***  
/His eyes...his eyes were... /the thought was momentarily pushed from his mind as he splashed the cold water he drew form the well onto his face. The diluted mixture of blood flowing lazily across his body.  
  
/His eyes were pleading, begging for his life. And those other men shouldn't have died. They weren't in the bargain./ He sighed closing his eyes. He knew in agreeing to kill that man he had degraded himself and everything he believed in. But now, now he had lost his soul. .Those men's lives were worth more than a few coins. Was my soul sold so cheaply? Will I never redeem myself?.  
  
He bowed his head in lament, a circle of red snow gathering around him.   
  
***  
He looked down at the Aoiya. How alien it seemed. He had been away for so long that he wondered if the city still remembered him. He smiled. Kyoto looked beautiful in the sunset. And for a second a memory of long walks with a faceless man in the blood of the dying sun crept back into his mind. Yes Kyoto did look beautiful in the sunset.  
  
He entered the Aoiya sitting himself on one of the tables.  
  
"Yes?" Omasu asked putting on her charm as the handsome youth entered.  
  
"I would like some okashi?"  
  
"I'm sorry we don't have those here."  
  
"You do in your room." She stopped and looked at him, he smiled at her. She then blushed at her earlier attempt to flirt with him.  
  
"Naki-chan is that you?" she screamed, dropping her tray and drawing him into her arms.  
  
***  
Everyone was either drunk or passed out. Omasu was complaining about her lack of lovers while Kuro complained why she did not take notice of him. Okon kept whimpering about her boyfriend being such a cold fish in bed and Shiro hinted at being gay (eeew! Sorry all Shiro worshipers I couldn't help it. This fic needed some life in it. Sorry!). It seems they had missed the boy a little too much.   
  
But Okina refrained from drinking, which sent many eyebrows up in surprise. He opted instead to drink tea. Something bothered the old man. He contemplated the boy...no the man in front of him.  
  
/His eyes, are those of one who has seen blood spilled before him. Blood he himself had spilled. He shook his head in desolation. Twice he came to me, and twice I have failed in protecting him. I could not protect him from his heritage and I could not protect him from his fate./  
  
He looked at the boy's blue eyes and the smile that played on his lips, is that freely given? He asked himself in despair.   
  
***  
He had taken Aoshi's old room because Shiro and Kuro's room could not accommodate another messy resident. He looked around the silent room. They had fixed it up quite well and yet there were still traces of Aoshi. And he smiled, /I have done what I had promised sensei, I have avenged your death./ Something nagged at the back of his head, /at what price? /  
  
Seasons had come and gone and Nakiwara was adjusting fairly well to his life in the Aoiya. Helping Shiro and Kuro with the cooking. He somehow fought all the unpleasant memories he kept inside. Rotting his very core.  
  
He was in the kitchen chopping some leeks when a shrill shriek came from the direction of the restaurant. He stumbled to his feet as he scrambled to get to where the shout emanated from, there was no doubt about it, that was Omasu.   
  
He reached her just in time to see her tears begin to fall and the people to gather about her as she whimpered something indecipherable. She was standing in front of the Aoiya's entrance.   
  
"Speak up Omasu!" Nakiwara demanded impatiently.  
  
"The poor dog! He was run over by a cart and now he's just lying there."  
  
It was here that he noticed the pile of skin and flesh in front of her. The matted brown fur and the parasites promenading on the cur's hide testified that it was a stray. If it wasn't for the slight rising and falling of the beast's chest, revealing the thin ribs that was almost bare, one would think that it was already dead.   
  
"Do something for it Nakiwara." Omasu pleaded. He looked at the pitiful thing lying on the street and he felt the knife that was still in his hands. Without a second thought he sent it flying, hitting the dog on the neck. It gave a small whimper before succumbing to eternal silence.  
  
"What...have...you...done?" she stammered, eyes forgetting the tears they were shedding and grew wide in disbelief.  
  
"I did what you asked."  
  
"I did not mean for you to kill it!"  
  
"It is of no use to anyone now, it is crippled and weak. It is useless better that it were dead." He stated simply retrieving his knife and wincing at the filthy blood that sheathed its beautiful silver.   
  
Okina witnessed what happened and moved towards him, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He looked into his grandson's blue eyes and took his callused hands. /The kisses of a sword,/ he thought sadly. He took his hand and started to place it on the dog's side. Nakiwara tried to pull away but Okina's hidden strength unhindered by the years held him where he was. He felt the ragged pelt beneath his hand and looked horrified at the old man.  
  
"Jiya, wha..." he began to protest. The old man shushed him and looked into his eyes. Nakiwara was surprised by the sadness mirrored in them.  
  
"Can't you understand what it feels? Can't you feel its pain?" he paused seeing the confusion in the young man's eyes. And he felt a distinct sadness that announced the coming of despair. "Then you are the one that's weak Nakiwara, you are the one crippled inside."  
  
***  
He looked at his hands. Why had Jiya spoken like that? What was he supposed to see? Ever since he returned he had felt a certain detachedness from the others. Like he didn't belong. And now more than ever he felt that, perhaps he never belonged in the Oniwabanshuu. None of them knew what it was like. To have been to hell and return to something so changed that it was almost alien. To understand nothing of their life and them understand nothing of yours. Did he belong on that mountain with the empty house and the cold grave? Was he meant to be like him?  
  
He moved towards the drawer looking for something to change into forcing the voice from his head. He opened the top drawer and as the darkness gave way to his little candle revealing one solitary thing in its recesses. An old paper crane.  
  
It looked soiled and the tattered edges clearly showed that it has been fingered constantly. Stroked lovingly and stained with tears. /Sensei must of loved whoever gave him this,/ he thought turning it over in his hand and he froze, it was almost indiscernible but it was there, misspelled and written in a childish scrawl was the name of his mother.  
  
"What do you wish of me Jiya?" he asked not tearing his eyes from the puzzle he held in his hands.  
  
Okina melted from the shadows and made himself seen coughing to catch the boy's attention. He looked up at the old man.  
  
"I had hoped that your hands would not know the taste of blood Nakiwara, but it seems this hope was in vain."  
  
"What do you speak of?"  
  
"Your eyes cannot hide the truth you so desperately want to conceal. And now your heart has grown cold as well." He paused drawing in a strained breath. "What has he done to you?"  
  
"He gave me what I needed in order to kill him." he stated simply.  
  
"He also gave you what you needed to destroy yourself." He answered. He looked at him, /only sixteen./ "Your mother was afraid you might become a hitokiri like your father, I am afraid he has made you one."  
  
His head was swimming now, /what is he saying?/ He did not want to listen to the ramblings of a senile old man. Too burdened by the years to fully comprehend the memories he still had inside of him.  
  
"You look distressed."  
  
"What was his name?"   
  
It was Okina's turn to look distressed as what he has truly done finally dawned on him. "Perhaps he has reasons for not telling you, but the time has come for you to learn the truth, the truth that may save you." Nakiwara looked at him. Okina noticed the little paper crane he had in his hand. It was almost comical how it all came back to this, and yet Okina could not find the heart to smile.  
  
"Almost twenty years ago, your mother left the Aoiya to find herself and here she encountered your father. She made him into a peaceful man. A man whose every waking moment was spent at her side and whose every breath was taken to hear her voice. A man whose past sins she washed away and whose life began anew here, in these walls."  
  
"I know of this."  
  
"Did you know that her death almost destroyed him? How she was his world and how his heart shattered the moment she let go of his hand?" Nakiwara looked at him passively, he knew all of this. "Did you know of a secret love that drove him insane? Of a secret wish that sealed the future of his son and his soul?" he paused.  
  
"Did you know how he could not set himself free for fear of crumbling your freedom? Of how fate spat on his face and turned you into what he dreaded? What he despaired? What he was afraid of?"  
  
"What has this got to do with the man whose name I now seek?"  
  
"It has got everything to do with him." he looked at the confused face of his grandson. "That man was Seta Soujiro your father, and you my child are his son." Nakiwara's eyes widened in disbelief.   
  
"Lies! Was everything I was ever told lies?" he asked through clenched teeth.  
  
"Aoshi, had his reason's for not telling you, as did Soujiro. But not all that was said were lies, Soujiro did kill your father, in some way."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Would you question inconstant fate? It just is child, fate has it's own course that none can know. It is how you face the consequences it leaves you with that matter. Understand boy. " He left the boy then, praying he did the right thing.  
  
The boy dropped to his knees, his world spinning. /Was it true? Was it all true?/ All his life, he was dominated by three images. The immaculate Seta Soujiro, who died for love. The esteemed Shinomori Aoshi, who raised him. And the last one, who remained nameless till now. He was more real than the two previous ones had been. He saw his tears, he saw his weaknesses and he saw his pain. And now he understood why.   
  
Perhaps if it were a different man, perhaps if he wasn't who he was, this would have destroyed him. But he was Seta Nakiwara, Seta Soujiro and Makimachi Misao's son, Shinomori Aoshi's pupil and the heir to the Oniwabanshuu's okashira. This was who he was.   
  
/He knew it was my only happiness, the illusion Aoshi-sama gave me. He knew and he suffered to be killed by his son to preserve this happiness. How could someone love me so much? He was my father, he was my enemy and he loved me more than anyone could./  
  
He felt it streak across his face and fall to his hands that were resting on his knees. It seemed to wash away the pain that those eight years had encrusted around his heart. For the first time in his life Seta Nakiwara truly understood how loved he actually was. For the first time in his life he knew what shedding tears truly meant. And he let them all flow. To wash away the bitterness in his heart and to baptize him in their love.  
  
When it seemed that his body would not permit any more tears to escape his blue eyes, he took his knife from his drawer and drew it to his ponytail. He felt his long hair brush against his back like a lover, pleading with him, he knew what he had to do. His knife shone a brilliant silver as it passed through the ebony of his hair. He closed his eyes as the remnant of his hair fell back to his face. And he smiled. He knew what to do.  
  
***  
He had divided his hair into three bundles, braided each one and set out to finish his task. The first one he laid on his mother's grave, the second on Aoshi's and the third he found himself heading back to that faraway place he had decided to forget.  
  
He laid it on an unmarked stone as he watched the smoke rising from the hut he had set on fire a while ago. That ended those eight years, it was behind him now./ Everything that you had become dies with that fire. Now all you are is the man my mother loved and the one who gave up his life for my happiness. Please find not just happiness, but the happiness you deserve wherever you are father./ And as he faced the last grave he whispered a promise to the world. /This I vow to my mother whose memory I hold dear forever, to Aoshi-sama who I am forever grateful to and to my father whose name I will forever bear with pride, this I vow that I shall never kill again./  
  
It was over.  
  
***  
He raised his face to the golden sunlight and felt the soil in his palms, it was good soil and soon he would harvest his radishes.  
  
~end~  
  
  
  
okashi-sweets, confections, candy  
Author's notes:  
The title is supposed to mean Nakiwara's happiness and the open fields means his life and more importantly Misao's love coz she smells of open fields and sunlight remember? Well the whole series spoke of the happiness of someone or the other it was bound to find itself in the title, it was his true happiness, no more slashing for this cutie. In the last scene where Nakiwara was tending his garden, I sort of stole the radish idea from the ova, hehe, actually what it means is that Misao had saved her son again the metaphor for open fields and sunlight. He was a man of peace now and his cutting his hair means he had forsaken his hitokiri training. What Soujiro could not fulfill his son did.  
  
Actually before I thought up Of paper cranes... the working title was Salvation. Anyhu the history of that title is that Misao was the salvation of all three men. Whoohoo you go girl!!!! Kinda obvious huh? Here' s a toast to all Misao lovers out there, me included.  
  
I don't know if I can top OPCAP hell even the sequels didn't pack as much punch as the first. I'm just grateful I got to write this and I got the chance to have others read it and actually be interested enough to read through all 42 pages (prologue included).  
  
Maraming salamat po. 


End file.
